


The Cut of Your Jib

by primroseshows



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, RPS - Freeform, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:24:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primroseshows/pseuds/primroseshows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thrill of the game burns deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cut of Your Jib

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a smut meme a while ago, originally [here](http://smut-meme.livejournal.com/529.html?thread=36369#t36369). Please venture there only if you like playing can-you-spot-the-typos.

Jun isn't sure when this thing between them became a _thing_ between them. Most of the time, Nino treats it as a game, like a punishment game, like a counting game: for every instance of bad behaviour, he earns some kind of penalty. Obviously he doesn't _feel_ as if he's getting penalized, but strictly speaking, that's what Jun's doing. Insults that cut too close warrant a spanking. Pranks result in bindings. Being disagreeable during work hours gets him the gag. It's punishing Nino for being Nino, but it's all senseless anyway – the only lesson that's being learned is how far they're willing to go. Jun doesn't understand why Nino likes the pain, but Nino doesn't come to Jun to be psychoanalyzed; Nino comes to Jun because Jun likes the game too. 

"Count," snaps Jun, raising his hand into the air. His palm swings down with a firm smack on Nino's ass, and Nino spits, "One." Jun raises his hand again, brings it down with more force. Nino's skin bounces. "T-two. Three. _Uh_ –four. _Ah!_ "

"Keep counting," orders Jun, and Nino stutters out, "Five," through clenched teeth. 

Today Nino had scored a hat trick of insults: Ohno's ruinous posture, a stupid comment by Aiba, and an example of Sho's clumsiness, all within ten remorseless minutes. No one was offended: this was classic Nino; it was a play for the audience, as it always has been, only now, it's a play for Jun too. That morning, by the coffee pot, Jun had stood tapping his nails against the desk in impatience and Nino had slithered up behind him, ducking in close like a hummingbird to a flower, and had whispered hot into Jun's ear: "Feeling naughty today, Jun-pon." Jun whipped around, face burning, but Nino was already halfway across the room and laughing with Ohno—it was like Jun had dreamed the whole thing. Except no, he didn't, because right before their PD announced they were on air, Nino had met Jun's eyes from across the room and had opened his mouth just enough to touch the tip of his tongue to his front teeth. 

Jun had spent the rest of the day picturing Nino on his knees. 

Not Nino on Nino's knees, although that will come later, but Nino on Jun's knees. Jun wearing his roughest denim pants and Nino's naked, pencil thin body spread across Jun's thighs like a slab of burning metal. Nino's face down but ass up, the cheeks putty for Jun's fingers; Nino's back tensed so hard he's quivering; Jun's left arm crossways over Nino's shoulder blades, holding him down; Nino's breathless voice being forced out of him each time Jun slammed down his hand. The red-pink glow of Nino's raw ass is a sight to behold; it never looks quite right in Jun's imagination. It's something that can only be glorified in person, and in these moments, Jun counts himself as a purveyor of glory. 

" _Twenty_ ," Nino huffs out, more air than voice, and this time Jun lowers his hand gently, fingertips feather soft on Nino's bright hot skin, tracing the edges of the map Jun had left, feeling Nino's trembles. Jun's thumbnail twists in between the cheeks to score lightly across Nino's asshole, and Nino _jolts_. 

His cock is trapped and pressing in the crook of Jun's legs, and it's nearly as hard as Jun's own, confined in his jeans. 

"More?" Jun asks, as Nino wriggles his legs enough to kick his underwear off his ankles. He's squirming, as if he doesn't know if he should remove himself from Jun's lap or press his cock down harder. Jun thinks, yes. 

"Fuck you," Nino mutters, fingers clenching on the dark blue blankets of Jun's bed. He sounds one degree away from irritated, but raises his ass slightly when Jun lifts his hand, like a nail to a magnet, and Jun thinks it again: _yes_. 

Half the time it's a simple game, but the other half, it's different. Still some level of competition, of course, but more intense, more _more_. Nino's mind is a puzzle, but even though Jun knows about all the pieces, he still can't make sense of the whole. So sometimes it's just sex where Jun hashes it out and Nino takes it, Jun giving orders and Nino obeying, because Nino likes to hurt and Jun likes hurting, and it can be that easy. But occasionally it's like this: Nino, his body and mouth on opposing scales of docility, where he will submit to Jun, but only if Jun forces him, shoves Nino bodily where he wants Nino to go, and _makes_ him take whatever Jun wants to give him. 

It'd taken them a while to reach this point. Jun kept stopping, getting anxious, thinking he was going too far, but Nino would blink and shut off his tears and sigh as if Jun was an idiot, his erection flagging, and no one would get off those nights. It'd taken Jun a while to realize Nino still liked it, even if he was crying, even if he was protesting, because no matter what his lips said, what vitriol spewed from his tongue, he couldn't deny the evidence of his hard cock or the hungry way he sucked Jun inside. 

Now Jun knows to take his pleasure – because that's how Nino wants it. 

"Get up," Jun says, fingers digging into Nino's back. Nino goes soft as butter, and sullenly stays put.

"Did you hear me?" But Nino doesn't move. So Jun grabs the back of Nino's head, fingers twisting in his hair, and yanks it up so Nino's ear can meet Jun's lips. "Get. Up. And get. On your knees." He pushes himself to his feet and Nino falls off the bed, onto the floor. Jun unzips his fly. "We'll give that dirty mouth of yours something to talk about."

Three minutes later and Nino's mouth can't speak at all, too full of Jun's cock to get out more than whimpers and groans. Jun's hands are tight, gripping Nino's head in place as he pistons his hips; his speed is barely enough to give Nino time to breathe, but Jun doesn't stop, actually goes faster when Nino makes a gagging sound in his throat. 

"Don't you dare use your teeth, you filthy bitch," Jun hisses, tugging feverishly at Nino's hair. "If you hurt me at all, I'm going to make you pay for it. I'll tie down your arms and spread your legs so far you can't even lift your hips, and I'll stick two vibrators in you, and watch you suffer for hours. Do you want that?" 

Nino's head pushes against Jun's palms, like he's trying to shake his head, but Jun just holds him tighter, pushes himself deeper. Nino's eyes squeeze shut as Jun laughs, "Fuck," and the sounds they're making are absolutely disgusting, but god, it's hot. "You want my come?" Jun croons, and Nino actually tries to _back away_ but it's too late: Jun explodes in Nino's mouth, his cock popping out between Nino's lips with an obscene, wet smack. He paints Nino's face with his come, watches it bead and drip slowly down Nino's cheeks to mix with the glisten of saliva that paints Nino's entire chin.

Nino's heaving in desperate breaths like he's been underwater for way too long. His cock is jutting livid red at his crotch; the bright yellow cock ring Jun had placed there at the start of their night is doing a good job. Nino doesn't hide it, but glares up at Jun from the floor and swipes his chin with his arm, then spits a glob of white right onto Jun's carpet.

"Fuck," Jun pants. "You are going to regret that."

There are rules to this game of theirs. Maybe not so much rules, as things that Nino will not stand. Nino will not take Jun's cock dry, but will manage if Jun only prepares him quickly, with one finger. Nino will not wear blindfolds, though Jun can cover his eyes with his palm. Jun can hit and pinch Nino where he pleases, as long as Nino's face isn't marked. Toys are good, blood is not. Jun can prevent Nino from coming, but cannot leave for the night without letting Nino come – that's against the point of their partnership.

But one last rule makes the set: nothing is set in stone. Oh, the things that Jun has been allowed to do, just with a little persuasion.

Today, Nino had insulted everyone in Arashi, stolen Sho's sunglasses, refused to eat the lunch Aiba was sharing with everyone, spent an entire choreography meeting immersed in his game console, and had actually sneered at Jun when Jun had asked him, "Your place or mine?"

Tonight, Jun gets to call the shots. And he's calling it like this:

His middle finger up Nino's ass with only the flimsiest coat of lube and come, him crooking it to Nino's prostate on a harsh rhythm, wreaking destruction on Nino's nerves. His ankles pining down Nino's thrashing legs, his left hand gripping both of Nino's wrists, tied together with a strip of cloth. The cords on Nino's neck sticking out like a mid-relief, paths for Jun's tongue to follow, but no biting, not there. Elsewhere on Nino's body, there are the brands of Jun's teeth: around his nipples, on his hips, on the topmost stretch of Nino's thighs. They will purple by tomorrow, and will make Nino shift uncomfortably whenever he moves. Jun is in charge and he wants Nino to feel like his entire body is lit on fire, wants to make him fear that he'll burn to a crisp, he wants Nino to close his eyes and feel the score of Jun's nails across his ass like he's scorching trails of flame. 

"Jun, Jun, _fuck_ , ah," Nino whines, back arching again and again with every stroke of Jun's finger, like he's a marionette under Jun's strings. "Fuck, _fuck!_ Jun!"

If Jun could make a guess, he'd bet that this is what Nino's after, his prize jewel in the treasure chest: the space between his desire and his climax when he can't even think from all the sensations bombarding him, when it takes all his effort just to keep air flowing through his lungs, when the only word he can put to the whole blistering experience is Jun's name. When his body is no longer his own, but a tool for Jun to use as he sees fit.

And it drives Jun fucking crazy; he can't get enough; he's hard and it's barely been an hour since his orgasm in Nino's mouth. He wants that again – wants to drive himself in Nino's bitten-soft lips, hear Nino's moans dampened by his flesh, feel the lash of Nino's tongue on the underside, but more so, now he wants this: pulling out his finger quickly (Nino's head slams back against the bed, "Ah!"), reaching down and lining himself up with Nino's hole, clenching for him, and letting go of Nino's wrists at the same time as pushing himself in. Yes, _yes_ , Jun thinks, as Nino's hole clenches around him, with the heat of the whole universe focused at the point of their joining. He's so fucking tight it's unbearable – even in here, it's like Jun has to fight his way in. But this type of agony is delicious, Jun's starving for it, and Nino's looking at him, eyes so dark, like he's watching a natural catastrophe; it's insane what he brings up in Jun, miles and miles of uncharted territory he didn't know he had. Jun's barely seated when he pulls out and begins thrusting – too fast by far for Nino, who bucks away from Jun's grip on his legs, but Jun pulls him back, thrusts harder into Nino's body, and who is the one screaming now, him or Nino? 

The slapping of their sweat-slick skin is an obscene echo of the spanking from earlier, so Jun shouts, "Count!" and Nino gasps like he's been struck. 

" _Count_ ," Jun says again, practically snarls it as he pulls all the way out, bends Nino in half – knees up to his own shoulders, twitching asshole on display and shiny with the lube and Jun's precum – and shoves back in. 

Nino wails, fists clenching on the blankets hard enough to tear; he slurs, "I _can't_." 

Jun laughs and brings his hands up to twist once, hard, on both Nino's nipples, and Nino keens like he can't take it, but Jun knows he can, Jun knows he will. He brings his right hand down to Nino's cock, smooth and so fucking stiff, and gives it a good squeeze. 

Nino heaves as if all the air has punched out of chest. He gapes at Jun, mouth open, unblinking. His eyes are wild, clouded with lust, exhaustion, repeated denial of his orgasm, but within that expression Jun also sees the glitter of triumph. And that's what makes him want to go faster, harder, keep on going until Nino is, in every word, finished. 

Jun slowly, carefully pulls out, until only the head of his cock remains in the grip of Nino's hole.

"Count," Jun says firmly.

Left hand clamped on Nino's bruised hip, the right on Nino's leaking cock, and Jun slams in with enough strength to crack the bed against the wall; and somewhere within the wreckage of Nino's low-pitched scream, Jun hears, "One."


End file.
